Mama Yo Can't Go
by Isabel Night
Summary: Set after the train tracks incident. After his defeat via the hands of Anubis, Dais returns to his room to meditate...and think.


**Disclaimer**-I will never own Dais and/or Anubis. Everyone belongs to his or her respective owners, producers, voice actors, etc. The title of this story is taken from the song Mama Yo Can't Go, which is sung by **Gloria Estefan** and taken from her CD _Into The Light_. _Into The Light_ belongs to its respective singers, producers, etc.

**Warning**-This story has a rating of PG-13, also known as T, for dark themes, foul language, referring to emotions as a type of drug, and the mentioning of blood. If you do not want to read something like this, then please hit the back button. I am not responsible if my Boxers bite you for ignoring this warning.

_Mama Yo Can't Go  
Isabel Night_

  
The past, what is it worth to you my little spring? What obliged you to stand in that drafty mortal area called the "train tracks," just so you could chronicle your story to that despicable girl and boy-child? Yes, I heard you recount the tale about how wild and passionate you once were before you met Master Talpa, but have you forgotten how intense Cale, Sekhmet, and I were too? How could you forget such truths, which speak of Corruption and Venom, two hot-blooded men who also fought gloriously on the battlefield? Yet, while they spilled blood on the playing field called war, I lived in the Kanto area of Nippon, penning death warrants for those who needed to, as some mortals say, "sleep with the fishes."

As I sit on my maroon meditation pillow, brooding over what happened in that Kami-forsaken place, I now realize that while you were under the tutelage of that blasted monk and his five warriors, that you have decided to reject your blood-spattered past and work for a folly mortals call "peace." You see, while I blended in with the background, on top of those things humans call "power lines," you had no problem in relaying your sentiments to those pathetic insects. In truth, I am not angry with you for talking to those pests, but what incensed me the most was the fact that they were listening to you, and making you feel wanted. Has this false wisdom led you astray from your fellow commandants that you cannot trust us to listen to your problems?

In reality, of course, you have always made me feel things that I cannot understand. For example, when you revealed my presence with that monk's staff, I was genuinely pleased to see you. I should have been angry with you for betraying the Dynasty, but when we spoke for the first time, in a long time, I can promise you that my human heart started beating. Of course, that happiness quickly changed into anger when you told me that you would not come back, but very few people can make my mood swing from one emotional extreme to the next. In the end, my heart shifted from anger to sadness when you used that accursed stick to knock my helmet off, thus, forcing my eye to look at you without any masks or barriers. Even now, it makes no sense as to why I felt those things; all my emotions died some four hundred years ago, yet, when you spoke of the white armor, all I could focus on was the memory of the Four Dark Warlords, and how with my defeat, I had failed to reunite us.

Perhaps, if there is any point in looking at the past, we took what we once had for granted. Even so, when we come together under one cause, it makes me feel, dare I say it...mortal. Any demon will tell you that such emotions are lethal; yet, it begs to ask the question. Therefore, why, in our haste and foolishness, do we still seek each other out? I do not think that I will ever have the correct answer, but it could be that we are lonely and need companionship. Quite possibly, it could also be that we have learned to tolerate each other's presence, and as a result, we refuse to "put up" with other people. Alternatively, it could also be that the four of us are addicted to individual sensations, that, like the opium that once plagued mortals, human sensations seem to act like a drug. It appears that once we have tasted the joy of an impression, the need hits our minds with fast and powerful mental euphoria, until all our brains can register is the exhilaration...the burning desire to become aware of things. Some humans would call this fantasy a "high," but as strange as the whole thing sounds, I never want the sentiments to stop. I want to know the joy of being around other people, I want to share my dreams and desires with someone I can trust, and most of all, and I want to be someone my comrades can come to, without masks and/or illusions.

I wish you knew what I feel when I am in am in you presence, young ogre. This dramatic shift of feelings, including happiness, anger, and sadness can only come from a person like you, and in a sense, anything I experience must come from your presence. Thus, in order for those "highs" to last through this lifetime and the next, I will kill, kidnap, rape, torture, or do anything that is required of me. I do not care if it sounds heartless, cruel, or inhuman, because once you are alone in the Nether Realm, where no one can protect you, I will lay my hands on you. Moreover, once you are a captive inside the castle dungeons, there will be no way for you to slip through my grasp...

_THE END_

  
**End Notes**-Thank you all those who have looked over, read, and/or reviewed my story. 


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